


All I Want

by neevechilton



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Working Late, harry wells deserves to be loved and comforted, it's just soft okay, mention of night terrors, they love each other and everything is fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:33:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27159365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevechilton/pseuds/neevechilton
Summary: Harry is overworked and tired, and it takes the people he loves to get him to relax.Set after they close the breaches to Earth-2 after getting Jesse Wells back.
Relationships: Earth-2 Harrison "Harry" Wells/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	All I Want

**Author's Note:**

> I do use an OC, anything relevant is usually described in the beginning or as it comes up, her background isn't important here. I can post a full background one day if it ever matters to anyone, I've worked using this OC for two years. I try to only post ones where it doesn't matter. I write for myself really, sharing any of it is new to me. 
> 
> None of my works will be multi-chapters they are all one-shot framed or similarly designed.

The pensive look that Harry presently carries on his face is one Lana is familiar with. It’s the kind of look that comes with concentration that’s going to give him a headache later. The kind that pulls his eyebrows together, and allows him to forget to adjust his glasses when they slip down his nose a little. It’s the look he has when he’s working hard, to look as if he’s working, while the rest of his mind does something close to whirring and shaking and clattering. He’s started to cradle his head in one hand, the heel of his left hand pressed against his temple. A headache as already started to press him.  
Lana releases a soft sigh from the doorway. A little tired all the time, but tired of seeing Harry like this more than anything. Lana is doing her best, and her best is often built on panic and anger and exhaustion, and all of it makes her best something like a chaotic and violent stumble toward problem solving. Standing here, she’s settling into a calmer version of herself. Seeing Harry does that to Lana, but seeing him like this balances out any relief she got from seeing him with the concern she gets from that expression on his face.  
Underneath the thoughts that don’t stop and the work that doesn’t add up with what he’s shooting for is an amount of exhaustion even Lana couldn’t match, and his sleep deprivation is getting worse.  
Lana wasn’t allowed to be overly concerned in an outward way the first time she’d seen him get this bad. They were closer than he was with anyone else here, but that wasn’t much of a high bar. Interjecting herself into his life—private life especially—would have driven him away in more ways than one. She was careful with her concern then, careful not to let him get worse, but not to let him know that she’s helping. It was a fine line that she walked as delicately as she could, and she knows he’d gotten frustrated with the idea of intimacy and everything it triggered in him when she’d stumble and get too close.  
She’s not delicate with him anymore. She doesn’t have to step around him, call him her friend, worry about him from a distance. Lana isn’t careful with how close she gets to Harry, he’s the only person she repeatedly and recklessly got close to intentionally. The first person in a long time who made her want to break a great deal of her own rules all at once.  
Gently, she sets her hand on his shoulder after stepping further into the room. A soft and reassuring touch that he leans back in his chair to be closer to. A slow breath falls out of him, and he removes his glasses entirely, setting them down rather carelessly on the desk in front of him. Little by little, the tension in him softens.  
Lana moves so both hands rest on his shoulders, pulling him the rest of the way back in his chair, running her hands across his shoulders and down to the bend of his arms then back again.  
Harry tilts his head back and he considers her with some tired amusement and fondness through half-open eyes. The way she’d touched him, to her was casual and simple, but to him felt as if she were physically pushing concerns and stresses and exhaustion out of him. His heart settles and he hadn’t realized until that moment that it had been anything but.  
“Hey.” She breathes out softly, head tilted some to look at him, a small smile on her face.  
“You’re looking at me like that again.” He sighs, lifting one hand up to cross his chest and rest over one of her hands at his shoulder. “Like you’re worried.”  
“Concerned.” She allows.  
“Not better.” He breathes out, but a laugh follows with it, shaking him just faintly enough that she noticed.  
“Okay, well, you’re _doing_ it again.” She tells him, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze.  
His answer is carried out of him, once again, in a slow breath, “I know.”  
“Harry, it’s not just working like this,” her expression softens, and she moves one hand to run her fingers gently through his hair. His eyes drift closed, and he tilts his head back as far as the back of the chair and his neck will allow. It made him look very, very defeated and empty. As if something drained him, and this was what was left. Nothing to hold up his head, or keep his eyes open.  
Classic signs that indicate, very clearly, to Lana that Harrison Wells is shutting down.  
“I can at the very least, give you my word that I’ll stop doing this.” He sighs, his hand slipping off of hers back into his lap. A quiet passes, and even with his eyes closed, that look on his face persists. “But the dreams… I can’t stop them, Lana.”  
“No.” her tone softens, “Harry.” She traces his hairline, close to his browbone, before passing her fingers once more through his hair, “I know that.” She says this as if she’s trying to convince _him_ of his own point. Lana is fully aware that it isn’t his fault he wakes up every few hours, how could it possibly be his fault? It’s Harry who doesn’t quite believe that statement, and telling her was supposed to help in believing it himself.  
Harry knows Lana doesn’t blame him for the kind of dreams that wake him up screaming, or breathing heavier. Dreams that push him up so fast his head spins and his vision spots. Lana has a tendency not to blame Harry for things he has done and is at fault for. She’s not going to blame him for nightmares that leave him shaken and exhausted and holding onto her tighter than she’s used to.  
He’s not entirely sure how well he’d be doing if she weren’t there every night when he woke up. If it wasn’t her bed, and her place, and her arms pulling him close and back into bed, warm and comfortable and gentle. Sometimes he’s afraid she’s the only thing holding him together, and he’s worried that’s not fair to her. That that’s too much weight to hand someone to carry every day.  
Lana has enough burdens to carry. Someone who walks through life collecting the sins of the people who matter to her, replacing pieces of their soul that grow dark with the little remaining light she has left. Lana is going to take on so much one day that it pulls her under, and Harry is terrified every day what he’s meant to do to keep her from that. What he’s meant to do to bring her back if she does.  
Lana Verger likes to award herself the titles that make her seem much darker than she is. It makes it easier to convince the people she cares about that they can hand her those dark parts she doesn’t want them carrying. A sin eater for the people she loves.  
He’s afraid that letting her keep him together right now is just one more thing she shouldn’t have to carry with her. One more piece of her that she gives up. A little more weight on someone who already makes a valiant effort to shoulder the world. He desperately doesn’t want to be what breaks the person he loves. He’s not sure that’s something he could forgive himself for like all the rest he’s rationalized away.  
Harry releases a slow, uneven breath, “You don’t have to wake up every time I do.” He shakes his head faintly, briefly lifting one hand to go over his face in that tired and defeated way people do when they think they can wipe the day off of them with that sort of touch. It takes him a long time to draw that breath back in again, and none of it is even or entirely calm.  
“Well,” she lets go of him, to turn his chair to face her, kneeling down in front of him and finding both his hands in his lap, “I mean sometimes you’re a little loud.” She offers him a small smile, lacing her fingers through his to hold onto him, “And I don’t know if you know this, but when the person who makes up ninety percent of what I’m sleeping on moves,” she smirks faintly, “It…” she lifts a shoulder, “Encourages me back toward consciousness, no?”  
A very soft half-laugh falls out of him in the form of a few short breaths, but a smile briefly crossed his face and that was enough to relieve Lana some.  
“I’m sorry, Lana.” He sighs, eyes closed once more, this time he seems to be shaking his head at himself when he does it.  
“Don’t apologize to me for something that’s not your fault, how many times…” she laughs some, “Do we have to go over that?” she rests her forearms on his knees and her chin on her arms, “Look at me,” she shakes his hands in hers some and he smirks, gaze dropping back to hers. She lifts a shoulder, “I’m always going to know when something isn’t right with you. Whether I’m asleep or not is irrelevant. You aren’t waking me up. And I’m not waking up out of some… _obligation.”_ She sighs, one corner of her mouth pulled upward in a tired smile, “It’s not your fault. And it’s no one’s fault that I can’t sleep if you’re not there next to me. Or if you’re not alright.”  
“That might be my fault.” He points out, offering her a soft smile.  
“What did you do?” she tries him, shooting him a gentle, but expectant look. A quiet. Lana shrugs, “What did you do that would cause that?”  
“Well,” his voice is strained some as he stands up, and pulls her up with him, letting go of her hands to thread one arm around her waist, and tuck the other under her chin, fingertips reaching the base of her head. Lana leans into his touch some, and leans into him a great deal. “I started it.” He points out, resting his forehead against hers a moment, “Didn’t I?” a soft breath, it might have been a laugh if he had it in him, “All of this.”  
He leans in to kiss her softly, and she relaxes into him, hands back to his shoulders. She does this when she feels unsteady, or when she thinks he might be. He found that out rather slowly, the ways she holds onto him and how they mirror circumstance. Holding onto him by his shoulders is for stability.  
She did it when he kissed her the first time.  
It didn’t work to establish any stability in either of them then. Lana had leaned into him carelessly, and Harry pulled her close at the same time. His back hit the passenger door of her car, and soft laughter fell out of both of them. Neither one of them stopped. Kissing smiles, laughter breaking them apart for moments at a time. Her car alarm went of when he’d leaned further into it for stability neither of them found in each other after getting that close.  
Chaotic and urgent and this refusal to let go of the other. It was quiet and dark and when they’d finally realized they both desperately needed to catch their breath, they stayed leaning into each other. Harry found a way to stop the alarm after locating her keys out of her jacket. Lana stood with her head on his shoulder, and his arms around her. Hours passed in a few moments; they would have stayed there forever.  
Now, this action seems to be a combination of how it still seems to take her off guard when he kisses her like that, and the slight daze of exhaustion they’re both feeling.  
“If you hadn’t,” Lana finally answers, forehead against his, a little smile pulling at one corner of her mouth, “I would have.”  
“Then it’s _our_ fault.” He points out with a small smirk she doesn’t see with her eyes still closed, but she heard it in his tone. She knows him too well, so much of him is written into her, as if she’d been studying for a test, learning everything about him. When her mind drifts, she still takes to mapping out pieces of him with absent fingertips, up his arms, across his chest, his hands in hers.  
She scoffs quietly, humming in vague agreement, “Yes, like it’s _our_ place, and _our_ lab. It’s _our_ fault.” She mocks him and it pulls a proper smile onto his face.  
 _“Our_ life.” He arcs an eyebrow at her. It’s something of a challenge, and if that weren’t clear in his daring expression, it’s made clear by the way this statement startled a great deal of nerves in the pit of her stomach.  
Lana does a passably bad job of hiding the way this stunned her.  
Harry laughs properly and her heart just aches in his general direction.  
“Sure.” She manages, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Okay.” She swallows hard, dropping her gaze to the floor between them, heart racing, holding onto him a little tighter. “It… can be our place.” She decides quietly, “It’s… it’s our fault.” She continues to list off.  
Harry is smiling in the way that lights up his eyes and the room and those light pieces left inside her.  
Lana wants, in that moment, to cry. Not in the way that she cried when she thought she’d never see him again, or the way it felt when he broke down in her arms and it felt like it was breaking something in her too. Lana wants to cry in that moment in the way that she wanted to cry when he told her he loved her, looking at her the way he did when he said it. It’s like that, now.  
Lana wants to cry because she wants that very badly.  
 _Our life._  
Her heart gives a sharp and complicated tug toward him, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder. Arms snaking around him, she holds him close, not particularly tightly, but firmly. Claiming him, as if just for that moment.  
It burns in her chest and the tips of her fingers, and in her face she knows is too warm. She hasn’t wanted someone the way she wants to keep Harry in a very, very long time. But she’d do anything and everything to have what he just suggested.  
Harry presses a kiss to the top of her head, and it just makes her heart react the same way it’s been reacting for the past few moments. He rests his chin where he’d kissed her, and shuts his eyes, releasing a sigh that relaxes him all at once.  
Harry is content.  
The way she holds onto him now, and the way she briefly looked after he’d made that, careless, comment, makes him content in a thousand ways. It’s what he wants. It’s what he’s wanted for a long time. It is what he will continue to want. With her.  
 _Our life._  
Lana wants to tell him she loves him, but her voice would shake. She can feel it in the centre of her chest, the way it would make her voice sound very unlike her. Like the night she called him, 2:00 in the morning, before they stayed together. Several months into being close, but barely two weeks into seeing each other. He got hurt in the field, not bad, but bad enough that she was going to think about it all night. Her voice would shake now, in the way that it shook when she said his name, and he spent the next hour talking gentle and quiet and soft to her until her voice didn’t shake.  
“Let’s go home.” Harry breathes out, tracing his hand up and down her back softly.  
 _I am. I am. I am home._ Lana doesn’t move. _This is home. You._  
“Come on.” He reaches behind him with one hand, catching his jacket and tugging it so it sits around her shoulders, hugging her very tightly, briefly, before leaning back to guide her with him out of the room.  
Lana leans into his side as they walk, and he smiles, arm around her waist to hold her close.  
A quiet passes.  
“I want it too much.” She admits very quietly.  
Harry’s heart tugs, and he tightens his arm around her, “Me too.”  
She shuts her eyes tightly a moment as they continue down the hall, and nods quickly.  
He’s always been the only person who makes her vulnerable in a way she can’t hide. Lying to him is harder, pretending around him is harder. Things she’s done her whole life as a part of her career, suddenly don’t come easily if he’s involved. He is a very effective weakness of hers, and that scares her too.  
Because she can’t lie to him, and she can’t hide the way she feels around him, and because she desperately doesn’t want to cry. Lana pushes him very hard against the wall once inside the elevator and kisses him properly, intently. Harry’s hands come up to steady her, because despite the way she kisses him, and the way she’d treated him, she still holds onto his shoulders.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment, let me know this fandom isn't dead on here:)  
> Follow me on tumblr i have a sideblog for this fandom: theflashtvsideblog.tumblr.com


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